Blue Waters
by addine995
Summary: Amphitrite reflects on her relationship with Poseidon and why they will always be. Mentions of Zeus/Hera. T just to be safe.


**A/N: I wrote so many scenes of Poseidon/Amphitrite in my other fic,** _ **The Scarlet Crown**_ **, that I figured I'd give them a one-shot of their own. This is the first time I write gods as immortals so please be nice. (The title is lame, I know, but it's the best one I could come up with). Please review!**

 **ETA: I have re-read the whole thing and cringed at my writing, so I decided to edit it again. It's still the same story, only better written (I hope :P).**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Amphitrite. I really am."

 _Don't believe him_ , a voice inside me says. _He doesn't mean it._

I dig my fingernails into my skin. They will leave a mark but I don't care. I bite my bottom lip so hard that it bleeds. Still, I won't cry.

Here, at the bottom of the Οcean, tears belong to another world.

Poseidon - my dear husband - keeps staring at me. His gaze is filled with regret and he is eagerly waiting for my response. He doesn't tear up either. He never does.

I reassure him that I forgive him and that he can come to my bed tonight. Yet the words seem to have lost their meaning. Who knows? Maybe I've been uttering them for far too long.

I can smell her on him. Every single one of them. He doesn't know, of course. He's happier in this state of oblivion. I try to avoid that scent, to pretend that it will fade soon... But it's there. It lingers in the sea air. And as soon as it's gone, a new one takes its place. And then another, and another, and another...

Each woman has a different essence. Some smell of roses, some of wildflowers, and others of wet sand. Sometimes, they smell like stone. Others don't smell at all. Those are the most dangerous ones.

They're goddesses, just like me. They know better than to make their presence known. Still, I can feel it. It's how us immortals communicate with one another. Each of us has a different aura, which the others can perceive.

Yet, to the mortals, we're perfectly invisible.

My husband lowers his gaze and presses his thumbs together.

I don't want to know who his new mistress is or where she came from. Whether she's a deity or not.

Hera thinks that my behaviour is odd. Of course she would. She copes with her own husband's infidelity by turning his lovers into animals and chasing after his poor, innocent children.

But I don't believe in putting on a show. Screams and shouts are never the solution. Some say that I sweep Poseidon's indiscretions under the rug, whereas this is merely my own way of dealing with my problems.

I don't like to see people suffer because of his undisclosed desires. I just let them pass me by.

After all, at the end of the day, he'll still come back to me.

* * *

He falls into my arms and hides his face at the nape of my neck. I hear a whimper and before I realize it, he holds me close and cries on my shoulder. We are tangled in disheveled sheets and he's panting uncontrollably. Remnants of his destructive force are scattered all over the room.

He's had that dream. Again.

I am the only one who gets to see Poseidon like that. To mortals and immortals alike, he's the ever-fearful Earth Shaker, the Lord of the Seas. He can raise storms, sink ships and take lives just by hitting his trident to the ground.

It is enough to turn the calmest sea into the cruelest monster.

That is his very own way of dealing with his trauma.

He had a harsh childhood. Centuries of being trapped into his father's groins and the endless war with his brothers over authority have taken their toll on him. His life was filled with darkness and hopelessness. His siblings are the only ones who can understand.

Yet they aren't as close as one would think. Every time they happen to be in the same room together, I feel like they keep blaming each other for their father's cruelty. In silence. They even try to avoid each other as much as possible so that they won't have to revive that pain.

But it's hard to put such an ordeal behind you.

Sometimes, my husband wakes up in the middle of the night. His screams and shouts can be heard all over our Palace, they echo in the long corridors and cause big waves to rise. I then rush to his side and cradle him in my arms. As I run my fingers through his dark hair, I sing to him. A lullaby. He loves my voice. It's what made him fall for me in the first place. Or so he says.

I don't know what is troubling him exactly and I never ask. He will tell me only when he feels the need to.

He has calmed down by the time I finish the song. But he won't let go. He wants to keep holding on to me, as if he's afraid that I might vanish.

How could I?

He needs me.

* * *

I am the only one who can help him fight his demons. He had told me so when I had threatened to leave him. I was younger then. So blinded I had been by my selfishness and vanity that I felt I couldn't stand his unfaithfulness any longer.

It happened so long ago that it feels like a distant dream now. My threat didn't keep him from chasing after other women. But it made him realize why I am so valuable to him. In fact, I believe that, if I try to run away for the second time, he will chase after me with much more eagerness than he had done at first.

He laughs every time we recall the ways with which he had tried to lure me into marriage. Yet I never told him why I had disappeared.

It wasn't him I had been trying to hide from. It was me.

Our tale has been told so many times and in so many different ways that it hardly bears any resemblance to the truth now. In people's imagination, I take many different forms: the damsel in distress, the clueless virgin, the runaway... The very personification of frightened innocence. All the while, he comes across as cruel and persistent. A stalker, if you wish to call him that.

But our story is not that of the hunter and the prey. The realists say that it was a dynastic union whereas the romantics insist that it was a story of true love. The truth is, it was a little bit of both.

I was born a Nereid, a sea fairy. My parents are Nereus and Doris, who used to rule the Seven Seas before the Titanomanchy forced the Titans to lose their authority over the world and the Olympians to rise to power. I am one of their fifty daughters. As some say, I'm also the prettiest. Poseidon was the new commander, much to my parents' dismay. They were eager to get one of us married to him so that they could somehow still hold on to their former glory.

A desperate measure, really.

I cannot remember where and how Poseidon and I met. So many millennia have by and gods, too, are entitled to forget. But I can vividly recall the first time I felt a spark between us.

He was keeping his distance. He didn't trust easily back then. As a matter of fact, he still doesn't. Our eyes met, just for a passing moment. He smiled! It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

Before I knew it, we were spending most of our time together. Poseidon's eagerness to discover his new realm had to be sated and he needed someone who knew all the secrets. I was the best girl for the job.

I have always been adventurous and independent. I guess that's what growing up with forty-nine siblings did to me. I showed him the ocean as I saw it. It is a world filled with wonder. Thousand of deserted caves keep the darkest secrets, shipwrecks from times past contain the most precious treasures, odd sea creatures hide in the vastest depths of the ocean, coral bays are always happy to display their magnificent colours... Together we touched the rock-solid bases of entire continents, toured cities that had been submerged for centuries, even approached underwater volcanoes without fearing for our lives...

It is my very own blue heaven. I have always been more than happy to share it with him.

He's not the first man I was attracted to. You won't find that story anywhere. Perhaps the many vices of the ancient Greeks commanded that the consorts of the three Great Gods be the definition of virtue. It may have been a sort of moral catharsis for them. Both Hera and Persephone were as pure as a blooming flower in the snow when they laid with their husbands for the first time.

I was not.

When Poseidon found out, he did not feel repulsed. On the contrary, I think it made the challenge to conquer me all the more exciting for him. I continued to show him the ocean, to take him in places where we could be alone. I don't know why. I may have felt the need to pretend like we were the only two people in this world.

Until I realized what I was doing.

I had fallen victim to my parents' ridiculous request. I was spending time with a man that I had genuinely fallen in love with. Marriage was inevitable.

I had to run away.

* * *

The rest is history and you know it already. But our tale is far from over.

I had sought refuge in Naxos because I needed to think. My feelings towards Poseidon were frightening me. I felt like I couldn't control them. He was nothing like the men I had met before. He walked into a room and made all heads turn. All the women found him attractive. His self-confidence was fascinating, his charisma was electrifying. He oozed authority as if he was born for it. He was exotic. Magnetic. Truly the creature of another world. He was kind most of the time, yet he would turn ruthless if he felt the need to be.

He became fearful because he had no other choice. Rulers have to be intimidating in order to be taken seriously. That's what his father and younger brother had taught him. Yet he earned everyone's respect by following on Nereus' footsteps. He remained fair. That's how he managed to maintain the uniquely peaceful balance of the ocean, even during the most uncertain times.

But underneath all that power and prestige lays a lonely, scared and clueless boy. I often help him rediscover his zest for life. Every time I show him yet another of the many mysteries of the sea, his face lights up and he looks with astonishment at the new discovery we've made.

There's magic in his innocence.

I know, this isn't how you would describe him. To you, he's a fearless and independent man with a salty sense of humour, who never takes no for an answer.

It's true, he is all of that. But there is still so much more to him than meets the eye.

* * *

He's unpredictable. Although we have been married for thousands of years, I still feel like I am discovering him anew every single day. His love for adventure makes him the magnificent man that he is. Sometimes, I can't help thinking that our three children are more mature than him.

Our subjects don't know that, of course. Neither should they ever find out. There would be hell to pay if they saw that Poseidon had a playful side.

He has other secrets too, which he keeps from everyone. Even me. But I don't mind. We're both introverted, after all. We prefer to keep our feelings to ourselves.

Yes, I know. You wouldn't think of him as such either. But he is. He's just putting on a show for his family to see. Especially Zeus.

You could say that the King of Olympus is the one to blame for everything that has happened between my husband and me. I met Poseidon because his brother wanted to occupy the brightest throne. He became unfaithful because Zeus made him believe that it was a sign of real masculinity.

Hera confessed everything to me one night when I was summoned to Olympus to comfort her. Zeus was on earth, seducing yet another mortal. She revealed that women were some sort of prize to him. A proof of his authority and prestige. He chased after them because he could not contain himself. He had made his very own sister the Queen because he knew she would never leave him. She'd be too ashamed for that. Through her tears, she told me that she still had nightmares from that dreadful night he had shamed her into marriage. She had regretted taking pity of that little bird. Then she had warned me to be cautious as well.

But I'm not her. I'm not selfish, controlling or predictable.

Neither can Zeus and Hera's marriage compare to Poseidon's and mine.

We're a mystery to the world. I'd rather keep us that way.

* * *

Poseidon's biggest enemy is his very own selfishness. I am trying to make him see that.

Unlike Zeus, he's not chasing after other women for acknowledgement. Sexual desire is an inner force that my husband cannot control. I admit that, sometimes, I cannot give him the physical pleasure he so desperately yearns for. He needs the thrill of the kill in order to feel alive. He must have something - someone - to chase after. I lost this privilege when I married him.

Still, he does slip into my bed when he has had enough of chasing after strangers. I guess it's true what they say, all ships dock back to their home port after a long voyage.

You may call me crazy for holding on to the hope that he will change one day. But even if he does not, I still won't leave him. You see, there are some things in life we simply cannot control.

Simply put, I am the calm amidst his storm.

Yes, he has hurt me. There are nights when the pain is so harsh that I don't think I can endure it. He has let me down more times than I can count. I have been through many long and sleepless nights for his sake. But I have embarrassed him as well. I think he would rather have a less reluctant queen by his side. The ideal consort for him would have to enjoy authority as much as he did.

But then he takes my hand in his, looks into my eyes, and tells me how proud he is of me.

I always blush when he does that.

He had spent decades looking for someone to make him feel at home. Until he met me, he never belonged anywhere. My beauty may have been the first thing he had been enchanted by, but now the bond that we share has very little to do with looks. After all, thanks to immortality, our beauty never fades.

We've been married for thousands of years. We have traveled the world more times than we can count and we have seen it change together. We have founded a dynasty that keeps thriving to this day, thanks to our countless descendants.

Still, every time I look into his eyes, I feel like that young Nereid who was swept off her feet by that enigmatic Olympian. I succumb to my wildest desires when I feel his fingers on my skin at night. When it's over, I hold him tight and close my eyes. Before I drift into sleep, I think that my life with him has been worthwhile. The world is vast and there are just so many places left for us to see. Yet, no mater where I go, his embrace is my very own haven.

* * *

People wonder how I could be so certain that Poseidon will never leave me. The answer is simple.

I know when he's in love. The gleam in his eyes, the smile on his lips, his obsession with the woman he desires... He has never looked at his mistresses this way. Not even the mighty Aphrodite, the most alluring seductress, who had kept his interests at bay for eons on end and fathered more children with him than I have.

He grows bored with them and lets guilt take the best of him. He tries to make up for his neglect by having lavish palaces constructed just for me or by presenting me with precious jewels. Hera and Persephone are jealous of my pearls. In their world, they are worth far more than their sapphires and diamonds combined.

I keep telling Poseidon that I do not need any of those things. I am happy just to stand by his side and assist him in his role. Yet, he persists. He says I deserve it for everything I have ever done for him and even more.

Deep down, we both know that the day he does fall for another woman, I will leave him once and for all. No matter how much my own heart will ache, I will let him find the happiness he deserves with someone else.

You won't notice me running away. There will be no shouting, crying or doors banging.

I won't cause a fuss. I will be quiet, calm and discreet.

Like I have been all these years, forever by his side.


End file.
